If That Will Move Her
by Winter's She-Wolf
Summary: AU. After meeting Ned's Lyanna-lookalike daughter at Winterfell, Robert decides to put Cersei aside and take Arya to wife.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This was written for this prompt at the kink meme: "AU: After meeting Ned's Lyanna-lookalike daughter at Winterfell, Robert decides to put Cersei aside and take Arya to wife. Older!Arya, please." In this fic, Arya is the oldest of the Stark children at 14 years old, followed by Jon (14), Robb (11), Sansa (9), and the boys, whose ages remain the same.

_Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;_

_If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,_

_Till she cry "Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,_

_I must have you!"_

– Thomas Parke D'Invilliers

**If That Will Move Her**

_Part One of Three  
_

Robert Baratheon arrived in Winterfell intent on reclaiming his old friend and binding their Houses together through a marriage between their eldest children. He left with one task completed and the other cast away entirely.

When Robert saw Lady Arya Stark in the receiving line, all of the air was punched out of him. Lyanna's name caught in his throat, all but choking him. It was her, his betrothed, his beloved, come back to him. But as a torment or a blessing from the gods? That he could not say. But there she stood, with those stormy gray eyes and that dark hair pinned up on the verge of rebellion. Arya looked to be just a year or so younger than Lyanna was the last time he saw her before…

Cersei was watching. They all were.

Finally finding his voice, Robert greeted Lady Arya properly and she responded in kind. The voice was different. Or mayhaps he misremembered. But once he started japing with her, her laugh – gods be good! – it was the same.

The king had thought to pay his respects at Lyanna's resting place before even settling in. But a statue held no allure for him now. His Lyanna was not in there within the cold stone they fashioned for her. She was flesh and blood once more.

Robert was not certain when he decided he would take Lady Arya to wife, just as he was meant to take Lyanna. But the sight of Joffrey escorting her into the feast confirmed his decision. She was not intended for that boy, who she frowned up at as he whispered something to her through a practiced smile. She was intended for the king.

Ned would be in a fury when he learned of Robert's intentions. He might even strike him, king or no. But Robert could not bring himself to care. His old friend would live through it and come round. Eventually. His daughter would be queen. His grandchildren would be princes and princesses. For the good of his House and the love he bore both Robert and Lady Arya, he would not make too much trouble.

Facing Ned would be the simpler tilt. Arya herself would prove a difficulty. And Cersei. But Robert wouldn't trouble himself about her until later.

First, the she-wolf.

Wooing her discreetly proved simpler than he thought. Arya had a taste for riding, hunting, and listening to war stories. Robert could ask for no better opportunities than those.

So it was that nearly every evening, he regaled Lady Arya and her siblings with tales of how he won three battles in a day, fought while wounded during the Battle of the Bells, and every other feat that made him great. As often as possible, the men hunted through the wolfswood with Arya and her wolf coming along – something Cersei would never do, even when Robert invited her.

As the weeks passed, Robert found that Arya wasn't so very much like Lady Lyanna, for all the physical similarities. Arya spoke much more often and more boldly, and she smiled for him more often too. Those differences made him like her all the better.

When the time drew nearer to their departure, the fates seemed to work in his favor. Robert didn't even have to convince Ned that his oldest daughter should come along. Lady Catelyn did the work for him, insisting Arya should learn the ways of the southron court and, if the gods were good, become more of a lady.

All was falling into place, neat as you please.

* * *

"She is a maid of 14 and unpromised," Renly said. "They say she is the very image of the Lady Lyanna."

"Aye," Robert said as he watched Arya laughing at some song Moon Boy sang. They had just returned to King's Landing and everyone was in high spirits during the welcome feast in the Great Hall. Lady Arya's smiles had been so few as they traveled further away from her home. She mourned for her younger brother who had fallen and was like to die or wake broken. She also missed her baseborn brother, Jon, terribly. It did Robert good to see her smiling again. "She does have Lyanna's look."

Renly laughed. "Brother, how can you tell? You aren't looking."

Robert turned to see his little brother holding out a rose gold locklet with the painted miniature of a beautiful girl with large eyes and curling brown hair.

"Do they tell it true? Is she Lady Lyanna come again?"

"Take a look over there, boy." Robert nodded toward Arya. "That is Lyanna come again."

Renly followed his gaze, looking confused. "Lord Eddard's oldest girl? Yes, she is very pretty. But Lady Margaery Tyrell." He held up that locklet again. "She is a great beauty. Lovely as the dawn, they say."

"Aye, she's a pretty girl," the king agreed. "And from strong family. Yes, yes, I give you leave to wed her."

"Robert, no, I did not mean-" Renly stumbled. "I am not ready to wed as yet."

"Then why the devil are you waving that miniature about?"

"It's just…" Renly looked about them. They sat alone on the dais as everyone else danced or laughed at Moon Boy. "The queen has not given you children since Tommen, and that was more than seven years past."

Robert stared at him. Renly continued.

"Who is to say she will ever whelp again? It might be time to set her aside and take a new queen. A younger queen who could give you more children and could bind you to another powerful House. It could be done if we could make the High Septon understand the necessity of this. Cersei could join the Silent Sisters, thus freeing you to wed again for the good of the realm."

By then Robert was outright laughing. He caught his wife's eye from across the hall as she stared at him quizzically. That only made him laugh the harder.

"Cersei?" Robert said. "A Silent Sister?" He laughed harder at the absurdity of it. "She is cold enough, I suppose."

Renly chuckled too. "Think on it, brother."

The king didn't need to think. Before the night was out, he had decided to bestow a few gifts on the High Septon to help him understand the necessity of this great matter.

* * *

It was evenfall on the first day of the Hand's Tourney. Robert casually walked in pace beside Arya and her sister toward the pavilions raised along the riverside for the feast. The younger girl, who favored Lady Catelyn, always appeared silent and nervous in the king's presence, but Arya immediately began asking him questions about the knights and the melee on the morrow and then about him.

"Father told me stories about you, of when you were young," Arya said. "He said you were the strongest man in Westeros. Is it true your warhammer was so heavy it took two men to bring it to you? And you could truly wield it on your own in one hand and carry a shield in the other? Do you keep it here? Can you still lift it?"

_Seven hells, she thinks me an old man_, Robert thought. "_Still_ lift it? Ha! I can still crush a man with it."

"Lia- I meant, as you say, Your Grace."

A madness overtook him at the amusement in her eyes.

"You will see on the morrow during the melee, my lady," he said.

"You will compete?" Arya asked, surprised as they reached the tables.

Cersei forbade him. Ned and Barristan Selmy tried to dissuade him with some nonsense about the other competitors allowing him to win. But compete he did. Fifteen years might have passed since the Trident, but still, hammer in hand, no man could stand against him.

His back failed him on the morn and wasn't right again for the next few days, but it was well worth seeing Lady Arya cheering with the other highborn lords and ladies.

"What does your dear friend, Lord Stark, think of your pursuit of his daughter?"

Robert glanced over to see a very unfamiliar sight: Cersei stepping into his solar.

"What the devil are you talking about, woman?" The king poured himself some water from a silver flagon and took a swig. He tried not to grimace at the plainness of the taste.

"Are you drinking water?" Cersei demanded, her green eyes catching fire.

"Aye, I am," he said. "Pour yourself a cup. Mayhaps you'll start talking sense again."

She stared at him. "Don't think I don't know what you are doing. This water, those training sessions with Ser Barristan, the sparse meals. You want to impress that Stark child, your new Lyanna. Make no mistake, I _know_ what you are doing."

"Good, you've told me," he said. "Now get out."

Cersei was right of course. Damn her…

Lady Arya was so active and spirited with all of her riding about and exploring the Red Keep and sparring with that Braavosi. She even wrestled with that massive wolf of hers. He just wanted to be able to keep up with her when they married without gasping for air or sweating through his silks.

Barristan was older than Robert, but in fitter shape than most younger men. The king had asked his advice and had no liking for his counsel. After attempting to follow the great knight's advice for a time, he soon began making exception after exception until he had done away with the idea.

But then that little sword Arya carried was nicked and wanted fixing. Robert had it sent to Tobho Mott, and then escorted her to the Street of Steel to retrieve it. Mott was all graciousness and compliments, offering to produce all manner of stag and wolf styled armor…for a price befitting the quality of the work. They merely wanted the sword. Mott called for a boy named Garren or Gendry, or some such name.

A tall, muscled lad with hair as black as pitch appeared. Seeing Lady Arya, he took the knee.

"M'lady," he said and raised the sword for her to take.

A blush crept up her cheeks as she took Needle back and regarded the boy.

He knew the look that clouded Arya's gray eyes. He knew it well. Curiosity, admiration, lust. Women once looked upon him thus. When had they stopped?

After seeing Arya's keen interest in the young blacksmith, Robert decided not to bestow any more of their patronage upon Tobho Mott's establishment. He also decided to resume his efforts with Barristan, determined to become the man he once was. Only three months had passed since then and already there was a difference. His movements became less labored. He didn't run out of breath so quickly. He was even beginning to lose the craving for wine.

But Cersei did not see these as improvements. "Of course, you do realize taking the daughter of one of your great lords as a mistress can only lead to war. Westeros has already suffered from a royal's fixation with a plain-faced northern girl. There is no need for it to happen again. Wed her to Joff, my sweet, and keep to your whores."

"Oh, shut up, woman! I don't mean to make her my mistress."

A silence stretched and grew tense between them as he took another drink of that bloody water.

"You do not mean to make her your _mistress_," Cersei repeated softly.

"No, now get out, damn you before I have Blount-"

"You intend for her to be something more," she said.

Robert said nothing, inwardly cursing himself.

"Make no mistake, Robert, that too will lead to war." As she left, Robert decided to suggest Ned increase the number of guards around his daughters.

* * *

When Arya's name day came, Robert presented her with a magnificent black mare. Giving him a grin, the girl swung herself into the saddle.

"_Lady_ Arya," a septa said through a strained smile. "Remember your courtesies."

"Oh!" she cried. "Thank you, Your Grace. She is beautiful."

Arya promptly named the mare Wenda after the White Fawn of the Kingswood Brotherhood.

She sat a horse very prettily and she rode with such ease, the animal appeared to be a part of her. Just like Lyanna. She was part horse herself.

Even as the king laughed and watched her ride about in front of the stables, he could feel Cersei's gaze searing into him.

Robert planned to ask after the younger Stark girl's name day so he might present her with a gift as well so his interest would not seem so blatant. But as he and Ned spoke during the small feast that night, Arya's younger sister and her name day fled from his mind. The old friends stood together beside a column in the Small Hall as the others laughed and talked along the tables, when Ned mentioned his intention to find Arya a husband.

"You mean to make a match for her?" Robert asked. "So soon?"

"Soon?" Ned regarded him quizzically. "Arya is 15, nearly a woman grown. She should have been promised long before now. We held off because she has no liking for the idea of wedding, but we can put it off no longer. Last we spoke, Catelyn urged me to find a match for her soon. That was part of her reasoning for sending Arya to the capital. She even made a list of highborn men who might be suitable."

Ned rolled his eyes leisurely, but his friend was much more disturbed.

"Who?"

Ned looked uncomfortable. "This is not the time to speak of this, but last we spoke on the matter, Cat asked that I inquire after Prince Joffrey or Lord Renly."

"Gods have mercy." Robert suddenly longed for a skin of wine. "Joffrey's too young to make a match for as yet. And Renly, gods know when he will agree to take a wife."

"I will not press you," Ned said. "Cat also thinks Willas Tyrell or Quentyn Martell might do. Or mayhaps even her brother Edmure."

_Damn it all, Ned!_ Robert realized he had to advance more quickly. But how to rid himself of Cersei without causing a war?

In the end, war was not to be avoided.

* * *

The gold cloaks carried Ned into the Red Keep unconscious with a shattered leg. When Robert heard, he went directly to Cersei's solar.

"It was you who put him up to it, wasn't it!" he roared without so much as a greeting.

Cersei regarded him calmly. "I do not pretend to know what you are talking about. But if you were not so busy raving, you would know my brother – and yours too by law – was kidnapped on the Kingsroad by Catelyn Stark."

"No, your brother attacked the Hand of the King in the streets of King's Landing, at your command," Robert shouted back. "Don't you dare deny it. Was this your way of sending a message? Are you so frightened by that girl that you would risk the head of your precious Kingslayer with this scheme of yours?"

Cersei stared at him boldly. "You think me frightened of that savage Arya Stark? Only a fool like you would look twice upon her." She took a drink of wine and stared into the glass for a long moment. "The Starks are attacking our family from all sides. The whore daughter is entrapping you, Lady Catelyn took Tyrion prisoner, and now you tell me Eddard Stark incited a brawl in the streets with Jaime. At least we cannot accuse the Starks of subtly. They mean to have you for that plain-faced girl and to remove the rest of your family entirely."

"Now you're speaking nonsense!"

They went round and round getting nowhere but growing more and more furious.

"You can believe your dear friend's lies all you like," Cersei shouted, as he stormed out. "I will find the truth in this! My brother's are blameless!"

Robert visited Eddard on the morrow and found both Arya and the younger girl – Sansa? – at his bedside. The redhead wept quietly as she prayed. Lady Arya was silent and tense with icy fury.

She turned as Robert entered the chambers. Both girls rose. The younger one curtsied and made her courtesies. Arya closed the distance between herself and the king in a few strides, and took his hands in hers.

"Please, Your Grace. The Kingslayer and his men, they attacked my father. They murdered Jory and Wyl and Heward. Murdered them right there in the streets bold as you please. But Alyn and Poole, they won't listen to me. They won't _listen_! We must go after the Kingslayer and bring him back to face justice. But Poole won't hear of it and neither will Alyn. With my father unwell, my orders are the ones they should follow, but they just tell me to pray and not worry as though I were Sansa instead of a woman grown! I sent a raven to Mother so she and Father's bannermen might act, but they will only say the same, I know it. Your Grace, please, for the love you bare my father, please make them do as I say. We might yet stop Jaime Lannister before he escapes to the Westerlands."

Seeing her face flushed and her small teats heaving with rage, Robert thought she had never looked more beautiful. It took the reminder that Ned slept, wounded and broken, just a few feet away, to keep the king from kissing her right then and there. He squeezed her hands instead.

"Fear not, my lady," he said. "I will see to this."

"You will tell them to do as I say and send the Stark household guard after the Kingslayer?"

"No, I would have them stay here to protect you."

Arya violently snatched her hands away. "Protection is not what I need! I want _justice_!"

"Arya," Sansa whispered, tugging at her sister's sleeve and casting fearful glances at the king.

"Oh, shut up and pray!"

Robert took Arya's face between his hands to make her look at him. "The Hand's guard is staying here. You will need men about you who you can trust. Other men will go after the Kingslayer and return him to the Red Keep."

Her face softened but for a touch of stubbornness. "The North should take its own justice."

"Look here girl, whether it's the North, Dorne, the Westerlands, or any of the other bloody kingdoms, it's all _my_ justice," he said. "I will see to it that you and Ned have it."

"For true?"

He brushed a calloused thumb across her cheek. "For true."

* * *

Robert made the announcement that very day at court before the petitions and whining could commence. The words had hardly left his lips when Loras Tyrell came rushing forward.

"You Grace!" the boy shouted boldly. "I beg you the honor of taking up this task. I will take Ser Jaime into custody and return him to face your justice. I swear I shall not fail you."

Out of his armor, the Knight of the Flowers did not look nearly so impressive as he did during tourneys. Picturing the slim boy with those long, lush curls and the roses about his waist attempting to take the Kingslayer into custody made Robert chuckle.

Pycelle rose from the council table. "If it pleases Your Grace, allow me to remind you that Ser Jaime is brother to your own fair queen. To treat him thus, like a common criminal…"

"No, that does not please me, Grand Maester," Robert snapped. "I need no reminders of who my wife was littered with. I will have Jaime Lannister return to King's Landing and answer for the slaughter wrought in my streets."

"Surely a messenger would serve to convey your command that Ser Jaime return," the old man said. "We need not send knights as though we thought him guilty."

Renly laughed. "Because fleeing the city after the attack makes him look a paragon of innocence? A messenger will not do. If Jaime is willing to attack the King's own Hand why would he hesitate to do the same with a messenger? No, my brother has the right of it. We must send men in force. Who better than Ser Loras? I will put twenty of my own household guard under his command for this task."

In the end, the Tyrell boy led a party of fifty to pursue Jaime within the hour. Robert still thought Loras could pass for a very pretty maiden, but after a reminder that the young Knight of the Flowers had unseated Jaime during the tourney celebrating Joffrey's name day, the king relented.

Pycelle followed Robert out of the hall after court.

"Please Your Grace, let me urge you toward caution," the old man said. "I should remind you that the crown is greatly in debt to Ser Jaime's father."

That _did_ make Robert uneasy. They owed Lord Tywin three million dragons and that was only half their debt.

Renly fell in beside his brother. "Should we hinge the pursuit of justice on who has or has not lent the crown money?"

"I merely advise caution," Pycelle insisted.

"You've advised me, now go," Robert said.

Renly continued to walk in step with the king after the Grand Maester hobbled away.

"If we could seek privacy to your solar, I would speak with you," he said.

Robert groaned. "You will be brief."

He longed to return to the Tower of the Hand to see how Ned fared and to assure Arya that she need not worry because everything was well in hand.

"Lord Tywin will have a swift and fierce response," Renly said as soon as they entered the solar. "He will see this and Lady Catelyn's capture of the Imp as attacks against his House, against his pride, and will strike, if he hasn't already. We must be ready to strike back at full strength. We can win this coming war before it barely even begins. I will raise the storm lords. Stannis can lead the royal fleet. The Starks too will join us, of course. House Tyrell will also be ready when you call. The lions will be trampled from all sides. Give the word and all shall be done."

Robert laughed. "My little brother thinks he knows something of war, does he?"

Renly's face, so ripe with excitement just seconds ago, soured. "I am older than you when you toppled the dragons."

"Who is to say this will lead to war?" the king asked. "Lord Tywin's a smart man. He knows when he is out numbered."

"One of his sons has been taken prisoner and the other will be soon. How can he not respond?"

"Don't be so eager to rouse the lion into battle." Cersei slipped gracefully into the solar. "Our claws are sharper than antlers and flower petals."

"Do not wolves have claws as well, my queen?" Renly asked.

Cersei slammed the door. "So you are hand in hand with your brother's plans to set me aside and replace me with that little girl? Hear this, House Lannister will not be set aside or be made to suffer these insults."

Renly's face had brightened once more. "I will leave you." He nodded to the king and queen.

"Are you really such a fool?" Cersei demanded the second the door closed behind Renly.

"Hold your tongue, woman," Robert warned.

"You would arrest my brother, a member of your Kingsguard, like a common criminal? Ned Stark already drove him off, now you would have him suffer an even greater indignity. Put a stop to this at once. Send a rider after the Tyrell boy to call this off."

He thought of a few arguments and reasonings, but set them aside. "No. Now get out."

Cersei remained. "What of your children? Are they to see their uncle dragged through the streets in chains? Do you mean to set them aside as well?"

That arrow hit its mark. The children. He had not thought much on them. "I will never set them aside. They are my children." He thought of plump little Tommen, pretty Myrcella… and Joffrey. The image of those bloody kittens, not yet properly born shot through his mind. So did the look of pride on Joffrey's face as the boy presented the corpses to Robert. "My trueborn children."

He suddenly felt ready to vomit.

Cersei's green eyes watched him and her voice softened. "There is still time to stop this. Send word-"

"No! Your brother will answer for-"

"Jaime was not the cause of that quarrel! Ask Lord Baelish. Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked my brother and his guards. Four Lannister men are dead and the fifth soon will be."

Robert roared with laughter. "Ned? In a brothel? Was Stannis with him? What about Barristan? Away with you, woman. You've been drinking too much of that Arbor red."

Cersei finally swept from the room in a rage, leaving Robert free to seek out the Tower of the Hand.

* * *

During the next few days, Robert spent a great deal of time at Ned's bedside with Arya and Sansa. To raise their spirits, he told them stories of his time growing up with Ned. He picked the funnier ones, trying to bring smiles to their faces. In turn, Arya shared with him her worries, how much she missed her family, particularly the bastard brother, Jon, and of her father's plans to find a husband for her.

"I don't like the idea of being wed to a stranger who tells me what to do and tries to turn me into my mother," she said.

"My lady, you will be happy in your marriage, I swear it," Robert said. "You can take the word of a king as certain truth."

She smiled at him and looked down at her hands. "I know marrying won't be _so_ horrible," she said. "I will bring Jon with me and give him a place in my household and not let anyone treat him badly, ever."

"Mayhaps Father will give your hand to Ser Loras in gratitude for slaying the Kingslayer," Sansa said. "That is what happens in the stories. The knight goes forth to kill the monster and then the king or great lord rewards him with the hand of his daughter. Ser Loras is so gallant and chivalrous like the knights in the songs. He will return with the Kingslayer's head, take you to wife, and guard and protect you all the rest of your days."

Arya scoffed. "I can guard and protect myself. Besides, I cannot marry Ser Loras. He is the third son. What castle will he keep? We would have to live in Highgarden and his family would never allow me to bring Jon much less give him a place."

"Then I shall wed him when I am older," the little one announced. "He was so grand in the tourney. He will be all the grander once he slays the Kingslayer."

"Ser Loras was not sent to kill Jaime Lannister," Robert said, gently. "He will bring him back whole and there will be a trial."

But as it turned out, Sansa had the right of it. Ser Loras did kill Jaime.


	2. Chapter 2

_Part Two of Three  
_

"Where is the Knight of the Flowers?" Robert asked.

Lord Beric Dondarrion stood before him in some distress. He had left with Ser Loras to fetch the Kingslayer and just returned five days later begging an audience. The king had reluctantly agreed to see him, though he had just received word that Ned had awoken.

"Thought he'd be the one to rush in here, proclaiming his success."

Dondarrion stared back at him gravely. "Ser Loras is dead, Your Grace."

For a moment, Robert knew not what to say. "Seven hells, what happened?"

"It was Ser Jaime. We found his party quickly on the Goldroad. We outnumbered them, but Lannister, he challenged Ser Loras to single combat. We tried reasoning him out of it, but Lannister goaded him and called him craven until he agreed. So it was that they fought, each as fierce as the other. I confess it was a fine thing to see. But then…"

"Jaime killed the boy." Gods be good, Mace Tyrell would want blood. The boy was said to be his favorite.

"And was killed by him," Dondarrion said.

"By him? Are you saying- Seven hells!" The Lannisters would assume Robert and the Starks were behind the killing.

"Ser Jaime did not long outlive his opponent. The others are still on their way with his body. They should arrive on the morrow. A few Tyrell men who traveled with us insisted on conveying Ser Loras' body directly to Highgarden. I thought it best the news reach you at once."

"Aye, I suppose this is better than finding out when Jaime's body is wheeled into the keep. Thank you. That will be all."

Once Dondarrion left, Robert cursed. At least Renly would be pleased. War would surely come now. Lord Tywin's oldest son and Lord Mace's favorite both dead. Gods, he needed some wine, but there was only that damned water.

Now he needed to see Ned more than ever. They must decide how to act, what was to be done.

But before he could hasten to the Tower of the Hand another visitor arrived. Cersei stepped into his solar looking beautiful and smug.

"You haven't heard," he said.

Of course she hadn't. Dondarrion would not gossip so. But soon enough this would be all the entire city spoke of.

"I have heard much more than you think," Cersei said. "I have heard tell of those gifts you have been making to the High Septon and I know what has spurred your sudden piety. You hope that when the time comes he will look favorably on your desire to set me aside."

"Cersei-"

"In case you have forgotten, the crown is in debt to the Faith. You are bribing the Faith with their own coin. But that fat fool did seem to favor the gifts I bestowed upon him. Lannisters are indebted to no one. The High Septon _will_ refuse you."

"Cersei." She did not interrupt him this time. Gods, he wished she would have. There was no soft way of putting it so Robert just said it. "Your brother is dead."

Her green eyes narrowed. "Catelyn Stark _dared_ kill Tyrion!"

"No. It was Jaime. He and Ser Loras… they fought, they died."

Cersei stared at him a long moment. "Is this one of your japes? Are you fool enough to think I would believe my brother would die by the hand of some green boy?"

"It's the truth. I had it from Beric Dondarrion."

She shook her head violently. "No."

"He said Jaime challenged Ser Loras to single combat."

"No!"

"At least he died with a sword in his hand, that should please hi-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" She flew at him, her fists pounding at any part of him she could reach. "No, no, no, no…"

Pinning Cersei's arms to her sides, Robert held her as she sobbed. He had no love for his queen, it was true, but gods he could not but feel for her now.

"It was _her_," Cersei cried. "She did this. You would have seen reason if not for her." The queen struggled once more before subsiding into sobs again. "She is here. She is taking everything, everything. She is taking you. She caused Jaime's death. She will kill our children next. She will! It's all coming true!"

_She is raving_, Robert realized.

He held Cersei a while longer until she quieted. Then he had Blount see her back to the queen's chambers with the instructions to send for Grand Maester Pycelle so he might tend to her.

Robert watched her go, guilt settling upon him like a sickness. Cersei meekly allowed the Sworn Brother to guide her away. But as much sympathy as he felt, he dreaded the hell that would come once the first shock passed.

* * *

"But Father, there had to be a reason," Robert heard Arya say as one of the Stark men led him to Ned's chambers. "Mother would never have taken the Imp prisoner unless he had done something wrong."

"Arya…"

"Tell me, _please_, I am old enough to know," she insisted.

"I will be knowing that as well," Robert said, pushing past the guard before he could be announced. "What madness drove Catelyn to capture the Imp?"

If this mess had a beginning, it was there.

"Your Grace, I would speak to you about this alone," Ned said. "Arya, leave us."

The girl opened her mouth, ready to argue. Her father cut her protests short with a hand. Sullen, she took her leave and shut the door behind her.

"Pardons, Your Grace," Ned said. "I cannot rise."

"No matter," Robert said. "Your leg, does it still pain you."

"Aye." Ned nodded with a grimace. "It does. But Arya tells me that the Grand Maester swore it will heal clean."

Robert took a seat and frowned. "Now this business with Catelyn…"

"My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace," Ned said. "All she did she did at my command."

"And look what trouble your command has wrought. Ten men are dead, two of them highborn lordlings, and my kingdoms are readying for war."

"Lordlings?"

"Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell." He repeated Lord Beric's story and told him of Renly's eagerness to raise the realm against the Lannisters. "He will have exactly what he wished for now thanks to Catelyn and that fool Ser Loras. Seven hells, Ned! What am I to do?"

Ned closed his eyes and breathed deep like he wanted to sink back into sleep for a few days more. "Catelyn had good reason to take the Imp."

"She had better have."

Ned shared a story of his own of the attempted murders of little Brandon Stark, a true assassination of Jon Arryn, and the suspected guilt of the Lannisters in both. If that were not terrible enough, Ned, Jon, and Stannis were all nosing around his bastards for reasons Ned couldn't even tell him.

"Why have you told me nothing of this before?" Robert demanded. "Why are my Hands keeping intrigues about my own lady wife and her family from me? Gods, Ned! Cersei? A murderer? Attacking a child? She is colder than the Stranger, but…"

"Her father presented the corpses of murdered babes before you," Ned said. "Time has not tempered Lannister cruelty or ruthlessness."

A chill sank through Robert at the memory of the tiny bodies crumpled and smash, wrapped in Lannister red. "That was different. They were dragonspawn."

Ned regarded him coldly. "They were enemies whose deaths benefited House Lannister," he said through a grimace of pain. "Jon Arryn and my son must have seen something or uncovered some secret they preferred stay hidden."

"And what secret is that?"

"That I cannot say. But before he died, Jon was seeking out your baseborn children with Stannis. I did the same to find what they searched for. I have found nothing as yet, but there must be a reason the Imp sent a catspaw after Bran and I do not believe he acted without his siblings. Allow me to send a rave to Catelyn instructing her to bring the Imp here so that he might answer for this."

"Damn it, Ned, the last time I sent for a Lannister to be returned so he might answer for his crimes, he died and took a high lord's son with him."

"I doubt Tyrion Lannister will coerce Cat into combat. With Tyrion receiving a fair trial that might pacify Lord Tywin."

Robert laughed. "No, Ned, it won't."

"If Lannister dares to rouse the west, we will smash him just as you smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident and the Greyjoys at Pyke," Ned said grimly.

At least he had the sense not to seem pleased at the thought of meeting the full power of the Westerlands in the field like Renly. Robert wondered at his own reluctance. War was the only part of being king he was any good at. Mayhaps he was getting old. That troubled him more than he cared to think about. So he didn't think on it. Robert focused on handling the backlash from these follies. First they intended to send for the rest of the small council so they might convene in the Tower of the Hand.

Ned called for the guard only to receive no answer.

"Damn it all." Robert went to the door to find the solar empty. A check of the corridor outside found that empty as well. He would have returned to Ned, but the sound of shouting floated up from below.

"Seven hells," Robert growled.

"What is it?" Ned called from the other room.

"Cersei."

The king followed the sound of his wife's voice. It wasn't long before he realized Arya's own rose along with Cersei's. He sped up his pace. When he reached the bottom of the winding stairs, he found them facing each other, a vision in contrast. Cersei's golden hair tumbled down her shoulders in a mess of curls as she trembled with anger in her green silk gown. Arya had her own hair pinned back as she faced the queen in her riding leathers, standing dangerously still. She was like an arrow, strung and read to be loosed.

"What's the meaning of this?" Robert shouted.

Two pairs of eyes – green and grey – turned on him with equal rage. Part of him longed to retreat back up the stairs.

"I want her gone from here," Cersei said. "Now. This very hour. This very moment. For the love you claim to bear for our children, I demand you send this girl away. I _demand_ it."

Arya watched him for a moment with narrowed eyes before turning away from the king and queen entirely. Robert's gaze followed her to the window. She was angry with him too, it seemed. What was the matter?

"Do you hear me?" Cersei stepped into his line of view. Her face was a ruin of grief and fear and desperation. He had never seen her this way before, not even in private. "We must send her away. For the children. For Joff, Myrcella, and Tommen."

_Gods, she is still raving about Lady Arya killing them_, he realized. _She is going mad._

"You are grieving," Robert said. "This is all maddens. You should sleep."

"No!" The rage was on her again. "Not while she is still here. I swear it, that girl either returns to that barren wasteland she calls home or she will die in this castle."

Every ounce of sympathy he felt for her disappeared. Robert's hands began to flex and curl. He wanted to strike her. He shouldn't. It wasn't right. It wasn't _kingly_. But _gods_, he wanted to strike her.

"Guard!" The word reverberated off the stone walls. Ser Boros and one of the grey cloaked Stark guards entered immediately. "The queen is unwell, Blount. See her to her rooms. Make certain she stays there." When they were gone, he turned to the other guard. "Why is there no guard outside of Lord Stark's chamber?"

"I sent Fat Tom on an errand," Arya said from her place by the window.

Robert turned back to this guard and instructed him to send word to the members of the small council that the king would have them hasten to the Hand's tower immediately.

Once they were alone, the king turned to Arya. "Pardons, my lady. The queen is not herse-"

"I heard my father tell you the queen and her family are responsible for what happened to Bran," she said.

"You shouldn't spy-"

"And the queen. Before you came, she said things." Arya turned away from the window and watched him carefully. "Things that couldn't be true."

"Just the ravings of a grieving sister," Robert said, turning toward the stair again. "Pay her no heed."

"She said you plan to marry me."

The king stopped, but he couldn't look upon her.

"I told her she was a liar. You are my father's friend, and married besides. She _is_ a liar, is she not?"

He didn't answer right away. "My lady-"

Arya turned away. "Please tell my father I went to the godswood."

The young woman quickly took her leave.

* * *

All throughout the meeting while the others made predictions and advised on how they should proceed, Robert's mind was in the godswood with Arya. Every once in a while he watched Ned. She would surely tell him of Cersei's suspicions. This was happening too soon. Robert wanted to have it all come about more smoothly. How that would happen, he hadn't fully planned yet. But it certainly didn't involve Cersei's ravings.

"Robert!"

"What is it?"

"Surely _you_ will support me, brother," Renly said. Robert had been wrong about his little brother. He was not the slightest bit pleased at these tidings. He looked devastated and furious. "We must call in our banners."

"No, no, no, such an act would only fan the flames," Pycelle said. "So long as the Starks release Tyrion Lannister, peace can be achieved. Amassing hosts will only make us appear hostile."

"There will be no peace. Loras is dead! I will not- The Tyrells will not stand for this. They will surely want blood."

"I hear Ser Jaime's blood already wets the Goldroad," Baelish said. "Will that not satisfy you- I mean, the Tyrells?"

Before Renly could reply Robert cut in. "It was single combat. They chose to fight and they both died. Let that be the end of it. Mace Tyrell has no cause for war."

_But war will come, damn it all. _

Varys seemed to read his thoughts. "As upsetting as it is, I am afraid war will be difficult to avoid. My little birds tell me both Casterly Rock and Riverrun have called their banners."

"Riverrun! What in the seven hells do the Tullys have to do with any of this?"

"I am told Edmure Tully is acting in response to the Lannisters raising their own host and refusing to proclaim their intent. The Eyrie very well may rise too. Lady Arryn is a Tully by birth as we all know. And I heard Lady Stark took her prisoner there."

"We have no choice now," Renly said. "We must call in the banners of both the Stormlands and the Crownlands."

Pycelle insisted on caution and sending ravens to calm the brewing storm. The others all joined in with rebuttals. They were getting absolutely nowhere. This was why Robert lathed council meetings. It was all talking with very little achieved afterward. It was even worse without a strong drink in hand. He considered leaving them and going to Arya in the godswood. He needed to make her see that this was right. But that anger he remembered in her eyes stopped him.

In the end, the council finally settled on summoning Catelyn to the capital with the Imp and sending ravens to Riverrun and the Rock demanding they keep the king's peace. But the fact of it was, if the Spider just heard these tidings of raising banners, the Lannisters and Tullys had likely made more moves since the news was sent.

Renly followed the king away from the Tower of the Hand toward Maegor's Holdfast. He kept prattling on about the necessity of raising the stormlords and being ready in case Tywin decided to march on King's Landing. Robert passingly gave his consent, hoping that would end the conversation. But there was no such luck. His little brother followed him into his chambers.

"About your marriage," Renly said in a hushed voice.

"What about it?"

"You still mean to set Cersei aside?"

Seven hells, how would that fit into all of this? Setting Lord Tywin's daughter aside would not convince the old lion to send his troops home. That business with the High Septon would be tricky now as well. But he couldn't wait too long or Ned would have Arya betrothed to some lordling before long.

"Yes," Robert said.

"Good." Renly clapped his shoulder. "I will depart for Highgarden as soon as I send a raven to the stormlords instructing them to rouse their levies and hasten to the capital. Everything shall be in place."

Robert nearly asked him what Highgarden had to do with this, but then remembered that Renly and Ser Loras had been friends.

Renly wasn't the only Baratheon to leave King's Landing that night. But Robert didn't find that out until it was too late.

* * *

In the coming days, Robert saw nothing of Arya. Whenever he asked after her, he was told she was in her chambers or in the godswood with that wolf of hers. Other concerns kept him too busy to speak with her anyway.

By the morning, Jaime Lannister's body was wheeled through the gates of King's Landing, the news of the duel between the Kingslayer and the Knight of the Flowers had spread throughout the capital. The bold smallfolk shouted obscenities as the body passed. The grief-stricken peasants – mostly women – threw rocks or rotten fruit at the covered corpse and the captured Lannister guards.

Cersei demanded the Kingslayer receive a grand funeral in the Sept of Baelor. Even Grand Maeaster Pycelle sided against her on that.

"The common people have no love for Ser Jaime, now least of all," the old man mumbled. "Surely the sept in the Red Keep will serve."

"No." With a rumpled gown and hair less than flawless, Cersei looked a quaking mess compared to the immaculate appearance she typically upheld. Yet she still managed to keep her head high and proud as she spoke. "Jaime Lannister was a hero. He fought against the Kingswood Brotherhood, he slew a madman who terrorized the realm, and he fought valiantly in the Greyjoy Rebellion. He deserves the honor of a grand funeral."

Robert had never heard Jaime's deeds summed up so nicely, and yet there was no lie in those words.

"So be it," the king said. "If you would have his funeral rites in Baelor, they'll be in Baelor. But if the smallfolk tear his body apart on the way up Visenya's hill to avenge their fallen white knight, Ser Loras, I won't be the one to blame."

Cersei agreed to hold the funeral rites inside the Red Keep.

While she planned the funeral over the coming days, they received word from Lady Catelyn informing them that she, Tyrion Lannister, and an escort from the Vale would hasten to King's Landing by a galley out of Gulltown. At least that bit of business would be resolved soon.

The king and queen attended Ser Jaime's funeral together arm in arm. She had taken the time to polish her appearance, but she smelled of Arbor red in the place of her usual ointments. Robert envied Cersei. Each time he wanted something stronger than water, he remembered that apprentice boy and the desire in Arya's eyes and Barristan's wise council on how to become that type of young man again.

Few others attended the funeral, mostly just members of Houses from the Westerlands who happened to be at court. Not even Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen came. Cersei told Robert the children were sick with grief and could not be persuaded to leave their chambers.

After several days without any sight of Lady Arya going about her usual activities, Robert was shocked by her arrival in his solar.

She curtsied when the steward announced her. "Your Grace."

The shock at seeing her come to him after the cold rage he saw in her the last time they spoke made him forget his courtesies. He just stared at her a long moment. Instead of the wool dresses or riding leathers Lady Arya was dressed in a cloth of silver gown he had only seen her don at feasts or special occasions. She bit her lip and shifted as though she was uncomfortable.

"Should I leave you?" Arya asked.

"No, no, no, stay." He stood and tried to remember himself. "What brings you here, my lady?"

"I've come because I decided that I want to marry you," she said quickly. "And… I thought you should know." The statement sounded more like a question than a proclamation.

Robert didn't know what to say at first. He hadn't expected this at all.

Suddenly a blush spread across Arya's face. "Was Queen Cersei lying?"

"No, she told it true," Robert assured her. He tried to think of something gallant to say that would please her. "I have wanted to make you my queen from that very first moment I saw you at Winterfell."

Arya's cheeks paled. She bit her lip again and looked down.

"When we marry, I want Jon, my brother, to come here to live with us."

"Of course, of course."

"I want to help him become a knight. Mayhaps even a member of the Kingsguard or a landed knight. He will be frightful good at it, no matter what he does."

"I'm sure," he said.

"And the queen, she will pay for what she did to Bran, won't she?" she asked. "That's how you will be rid of her, isn't it?"

"As to that, I do not know, but everything will be sorted out. I swear it."

She smiled politely. "Thank you, Your Grace." Her words seemed practiced. "I will leave you now."

Robert watched her leave, perplexed. This was the last thing he had expected. It was far from unwelcome, but… Gods, he wanted a drink.


	3. Chapter 3

_Part Three of Three_

As they stood in the godswood, Robert secured the silver bracelet of linked wolves around Arya's wrist, hoping to bind her to him.

When he commissioned the trinket more than a month ago, he planned to present it upon their official engagement. But her manner with him suddenly appeared so cold and reserved. Where she had once chattered away and told him whatever was on her mind, she now recited practiced phrases and gave guarded replies. Robert hoped a gift would make her warm to him again.

Arya did smile when she noted the golden topaz eyes on the wolves. "Like Nymeria's."

That hadn't been his intent. Robert wished to blend their House colors – her grey and his gold. But the king didn't correct her as she held out her wrist for that beast of hers to inspect.

Yet, when she thanked him it was all lady-like graciousness with a load of blather about how honored and humbled she was by the gesture.

She bit her lip as she continued to examine the bracelet.

"Why does the queen think I want to hurt her children?" Arya asked suddenly. "Joffrey is a little shit, but- what I mean to say is, I never harmed them or her brother. Though I would have if I could. The Kingslayer that is, not the children. But why?"

"Damned if I know," Robert said. But he had wondered on that as well. Many times over the years Cersei had made outlandish accusations before to get what she wanted, but this was quite odd. "She is grieving and stabbing at shadows."

Arya looked back down at the bracelet.

"It is beautiful, Your Grace, but I can't wear it, not until we talk to Father," she said. But they could not talk to Ned until after he set Cersei aside, a possibility that moved further and further out of reach.

"Soon," Robert vowed, kissing her hand. "Ned won't be pleased at first, but he will come round."

"He should be pleased," Arya said. "He wants me to marry your brother because he is Lord of Storm's End. He wants me to marry Willas Tyrell because he will be Lord of Highgarden. You are Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. He and Mother will be happy that I did so well for our House."

Robert frowned. "Most ladies do not speak of their betrothals so."

She twisted her face in confusion. "Why not? Isn't that what marriage is about? Choosing the right husband or wife based on their title or their father's title?"

"Seven hells!"

"What?" She looked up at him innocently. "Isn't that the truth of it?"

He cupped her cheek wondering how she had gotten these notions so young. None of the singers spun tales of marriage contracts, useful alliances, and dowries.

* * *

_One drink would do no harm._ Robert swirled the strongwine in the glass contemplating it.

An audience with the High Septon had left him wroth with frustration. He did not out and out ask the man if he would support him in setting his wife aside. He just hinted at it, trying for that subtly he was so unaccustomed to, for all the good it did him.

Cersei was right, damn her. She had out bid Robert with the Faith. Even the slightest hint of what Robert intended sent the man into about House Lannister's virtues – the queen most of all.

"Oh, before the conquest a number of kings in the past were unfortunate enough to be forced to set their wives aside due to their inability to produce children or if she were found guilty of a great crime," the High Septon said. "Your Grace is lucky not to suffer that misfortune. Our good queen has fulfilled her duty with two strong princes and a princess too."

_Corrupt bastard!_

Robert had returned to his solar to think on how to proceed. But he was not to have any solitude for the guard soon announced that Ser Horas Redwyne was outside and requesting an audience.

"Who?"

"One of the Redwyne twins," Ser Arys said. "Lord Paxter of the Arbor's son and heir. I told him Your Grace and the council were to hold court on the morrow for any petitions, but he claims this is a matter of great import only to be discussed with the king immediately. Will you see him?"

Robert continued to swirl the wine. "Bring him in, bring him in."

A plain red-haired knight walked in looking very pleased with himself as he went through all the necessary courtesies. Robert remembered seeing him compete in the Hand's Tourney but failed to remember who he unhorsed.

"Your Grace, mine uncle, Lord Mace Tyrell, has written bidding me speak with you on the great matter of your marriage," he said. "He is-"

"My marriage?" Robert demanded. "And why in the seven hells would he do that?"

Startled, Ser Horas suddenly didn't look near so pleased. "Well… he wishes to know how you fare in- in settling things – in setting the queen aside, that is."

"What would Mace Tyrell know of that?"

"Your brother, Your Grace. Lord Renly. He told my uncle. He said you had settled it with him that you wished to set your wife aside and take the Lady Margaery to wife. Mine uncle only wished to know how you fared and how he might be of -"

"Lady Margaery?! I have never laid eyes on the girl! I am warning you, boy, if this is some sort of jape-"

"No, Your Grace, this is no jape, I swear it," Ser Horas insisted. "My uncle truly wrote to me. He wishes to marry Margaery to you and his son to the Hand's daughter. He only wanted me to-"

"The Hand's daughter?! Lady Arya?"

"Yes, he wishes to form alliances so we might fight the Lannisters together should they prove difficult. Truly, Your Grace, this is the truth. This is what I was told. Forgive me if I misspoke."

"Have you spoken to the Hand of this?"

"Not as yet. Uncle Mace wished to write to him directly in response to Lord Stark's proposal. He wrote to make a match between Willas and his oldest girl and-"

"Out! Now, damn you!" Robert threw the wine at the young knight as he ran.

* * *

"Truly, Ned, this is folly," Robert said. He prowled Ned's solar furiously. "What are you thinking making betrothals with the Tyrells at a time like this? Lord Mace is surely mourning the Ser Loras."

_At least he damn well should be instead of trying to his daughter onto me._

"I wrote him before all of this began," Ned said. "I wanted to arrange a visit to Highgarden so Arya might meet Tyrell's heir and I could discuss the possibility of a marriage contract with Lord Mace. I had no thought of receiving an answer at a time like this. But just as well. Willas Tyrell will make a very good match for Arya. I hear he is a good man."

"What does Lady Arya say of this?"

"Robert." Ned regarded him coldly. Why are you concerning yourself with Arya's betrothal?"

A moment passed before he realized his mouth was open. Quickly, he smiled.

"Ned! Don't be a bloody fool. You and I are more than just a King and his Hand. We're close as family. Of course I care about our family."

His friend's stare remained as cold and impassive as the wall.

"Arya has Lya's look," he said.

"Aye, she does."

"But she is _not_ Lyanna," Eddard said. "You would do well to remember that."

* * *

Not long after Jaime's body began its journey down the Goldroad to rest at Casterly Rock, a party of knights, soldiers, and smallfolk made their way up to the capital. Their original intent was to present witnesses to the king and his court of the atrocities Gregor Clegane reaped upon the Riverlands and plead for permission to seek vengeance on Tywin Lannister and his mad dog. Instead, their news contained an added urgency.

The Lannister army was moving in haste toward King's Landing.

They collected the information from one of Clegane's men after a skirmish. On their way to the capital, they took the Mountain and his men by surprise where the Goldroad dipped into the Riverlands. Clegane had attacked a party of armored men who traveled under no banner with three children. They drove Clegane off, but the party under attack was killed save one of the boys. The man they captured was near death, but was able to tell them that Clegane's troops were sent to burn a path ahead of the main force of the Lannister army. Ser Jaime's death had apparently proved the greater offense when weighed against Tyrion's kidnapping. Thus the old lion planned on seeking swift vengeance by taking King's Landing and sitting his grandson on the throne quickly before the rest of the realm had time to take notice.

As the court hummed and hissed with the news, Pycelle balked at the story. Standing on shaky feet he denounced the notion that Tywin Lannister would march on Robert, who was his son by the laws of gods and men. He also insisted that the atrocities they were describing couldn't possibly have been the work of Lord Tywin or the _anointed knight_ Gregor Clegane.

The knights responded by presenting the witnesses who described a savage warrior of monstrous size who cut men in half, burned villages, and raped women and children. Though he flew no banner, he could only be the Mountain That Rides, or so Ser Raymun Darry claimed.

"This one here saw and recognized the Mountain," Ser Raymun said as his men carried forth a small plump boy with dark curls. The blood soaking through his filthy clothing and the whimpering sound he made every time the men carrying him took a step made it clear the boy should be nowhere but a bedchamber receiving care for his wounds.

They placed the makeshift litter before the council table. When Robert rose from that monstrous uncomfortable throne to get a closer look at the lad, the other council members followed.

"The boy was pleading for mercy from Clegane when we reached him," Ser Marq Piper said. "Called him by name. Tell them, boy."

The lad weakly opened his eyes revealing them to be a vivid green. Those eyes meekly searched the sea of faces above him before settling on Robert.

"Father," he rasped out. "Father…help me… please…"

"This is no time for a prayer. Tell the king of Clegane."

"Father, please…It's me, Tommen…I am, Tommen…They won't listen."

"Out of his wits," Baelish said in a bored tone.

"Why have you brought a boy half out of his mind and in need of a maester's care before the king and council?" Pycelle demanded.

The boy's green eyes remained locked on Robert in a plea. Those eyes looked so familiar, but this plump boy with dirt on his face and dark curls could not possibly be Tommen. Yet, those were Cersei's eyes, Robert would swear to it.

"His hair," Ned said. "Could that be dye?"

Barristan knelt beside the child and gently stroked his dark curls. His fingertips came away stained.

"Ser Arys," Barristan called. "Go to Maegor's. Ensure that all three of the royal children are safe."

"Which member of the Kingsguard is with them?" Ned asked.

"The queen wanted them under the sole charge of the Lannister household guard," the lord commander said, looking as wretched as Robert felt. "I have a white Cloak look in on them once a day. Since they were taken ill they have each been found abed."

"Pycelle!" Robert did not lift his gaze from Tommen – for Tommen it was. How did he not know immediately? "Did you know of this?"

"Know of what, Your Grace?" the old man asked. "You could not be suggesting this-"

"If the princes and princess have fallen ill, surely you would have been at their bedsides every day," Ned said.

"It is not a true sickness the children are suffering from," Pycelle stammered. "It is an illness of the mind, not the body. It is grief – grief for their fallen uncle – that they suffer from. The queen agreed. I saw no need to call upon them again. Your Grace, my lord Hand, surely you do not believe this raving child's claim. How would Prince Tommen have traveled out of King's Landing without anyone the wiser? No, these false knights have brought a half crazed boy before us to help spread their lies about Lord Tywin."

"How dare you, old man!" Ser Raymun shouted. "You need only wait a few days when the Lannister host is crashing against the city walls to know the truth in our words."

Robert knelt beside Barristan. "Tommen, tell us the truth of this."

The entire court was silent and straining to hear. The boy barely managed to rasp out some words about his mother sending him, Joffrey, and Myrcella to Casterly Rock in disguise for their safety. By the time he finished, Ser Arys returned with confirmation. The royal children were not in their chambers. In their places were Lannisport Lannisters.

"You mentioned two other children in the party," Barristan said.

Robert looked up at the river knights. They looked ready to piss themselves.

Ser Marq fell to one knee, followed by the others. "Forgive me, Your Grace. We could not save them. We buried their bodies and those of their escort beside the road."

The crown prince and the princess of the Iron Throne buried beside a road in unmarked graves…

The lords and ladies of the court buzzed with excitement, not even bothering to whisper any longer.

"We must bring an end to this," Ned said.

Robert rose to his feet and bellowed for silence before calling an end to the court session.

Two of his children were dead, a third was on his way to the Stranger, and Tywin Lannister was marching in haste toward the capital. Yet he didn't feel grief or fear or rage or much of anything, save old and tired.

* * *

"I should have known," Robert said as he and Eddard followed Tommen's shabby litter toward the Tower of the Hand.

They could not take him to Maegor's because the gold cloaks were raiding the royal apartments to arrest Cersei, the remaining Lannister guards, and all the servants responsible for assisting in concealing the royal children's kidnapping.

"What kind of man is none the wiser when his children are missing?" he asked. "What sort of king has no idea what' going on in his castle?"

Ned had no answers for him.

As they neared the Tower of the Hand, shouting could be heard, sounding suspiciously familiar.

"Seven hells!"

Robert sped up his pace, leaving Ned and the guards who assisted him behind. He charged past he guard at the door. Barristan and Arys were beside him as he found Cersei and Arya once again in heated argument. This time Stark and Lannister household guards stood about them on either side. One of the grey cloaks was attempting to sooth the situation. Arya's septa looked ready to faint in horror.

The chamber slowly quieted as he entered. Arya was last to notice him.

"…and I will see your head on a spike!"

Suddenly aware of the silence, she looked about her to find Robert stepping further into the room and Ned entering with the assistance of his men.

"Did you hear her?" Cersei demanded.

"Do you think me deaf, woman?"

"And you would let this savage girl speak to your queen thus?" Then she smiled and laughed. "Oh, I had forgotten. You mean to set me aside for _this_." She gestured to Arya, who was garbed in the dirty cut off breeches she wore while training with her Braavosi. "No wonder she thinks she can strut about speaking to me as she likes."

Piper and Darry stood behind Ned carrying Tommen. "Should we take the boy elsewhere, Your Grace?"

"No," Eddard answered. "Poole, show them to a spare room and see to it that he is made as comfortable as possible."

Cersei barely gave Tommen a glace. With the crown of his head covered in dark curls instead of gold, even his mother didn't recognize him.

"Your betrothed informed me you are to be married," Cersei said, still smiling. "Oh, yes, she gloated quite wantonly of how she would take my place, take everything that is mine, and see my head on a spike for what I supposedly did to her crippled brother."

"What madness is this?" Ned demanded.

"Ser Barristan, see to the queen," Robert said.

The old knight stepped forward, but the two Lannister men blocked his path.

"Stand aside in the name of the king," Barristan commanded.

The two lions looked uncertain, but they stood their ground.

"Does Lord Stark truly have no idea that you have been panting after his daughter all these months or is he just being coy?" Cersei asked.

The king could feel Ned's gaze on him. "Robert?"

"Barristan!"

"Robert!"

"Now!"

"Oh, don't you want your good friend to hear?" Cersei asked with mock innocence. "I will not be sent to my chambers like a petulant child while you attempt to explain this away."

"You have the right of it there," the king said. "You will not be sent to your chambers. You will be taken to the black cells like a criminal."

The defiance paled from Cersei's face.

"Is she being arrested for what she did to Bran and Jon Arryn?" Arya asked.

"No, child," Barristan said. "We are arresting the queen for taking the royal children and spiriting them away without the king's knowledge and permission, which is paramount to kidnapping and treason."

Cersei seemed to calm a bit and turned back to her husband. "Have you finally noticed they are gone? It has only been a fortnight. They will be safe at the Rock. Safe from her and her plots."

"They weren't safe from your father's men," Robert said.

"What are you saying?"

"Damn you, Cersei, they are dead! You sent our children to their deaths!"

_My children are dead._

The numbness ebbed away revealing the full reality. His children were dead or dying and he didn't even notice they were gone until one was thrust before him.

_My children are dead._

"No, you are saying this to frighten me," she insisted, not at all certain of her own words. "They are safe at Casterly Rock by now."

"Get her out of here Barristan, or gods help me I will choke the life from her!"

The red cloaks finally stepped aside and the lord commander escorted Cersei out. She could still be heard for some time proclaiming it wasn't true and begging the old knight to tell her it was all a lie.

A long uncomfortable silence followed the departure.

"Robert!" Ned growled. "You tell me there is no truth in what the queen said about you and my daughter."

"Ned-"

"Tell me!"

"Father, we are to marry once he sets the queen aside," Arya said, quickly.

"Is that what you told my daughter before robbing her of her virtue? Damn you, Robert! She is my daughter and younger than your oldest girl!"

"I didn't touch her, Ned, I swear it."

"You swear? The Others take your oaths and vows. I more than anyone know their worth. Would that my leg were healed, I would-"

"Father, there was no robbing of any virtue," Arya insisted. "I still-"

"Arya," Ned's voice snapped sharply. "To your room. Desmond, see that she does not leave her chambers."

"But Father-"

Ned silenced her with a look and she sullenly made her way up the winding steps. Before disappearing, Arya stopped and turned on Ned.

"It was you who said I'd marry a king and my sons would be princes and lords and knights and a High Septon. And you were right."

Another of those monstrous silences followed her final departure.

"Ned," Robert began.

"There is an army bearing down upon us and your son may be dying," Ned interrupted. "I will not fight with you now. You should go to the prince. I will see to fortifying the city and sending ravens."

* * *

Tommen died a few hours before sunrise with the dirt of the Goldroad still covering him.

Robert stayed with him until the end. I was the most time he had spent with the boy all at once. He tried to recall any close moments between the two of them, but could think of nothing.

For the remainder of the day and into the night, Grand Maester Pycelle scurried about more quickly than the king had ever seen the old man move, desperately trying to save the young prince's life. But if Robert knew much of anything it was of death. He'd seen enough of it; he'd caused enough of it. As the night stretched on, the stench of death only grew more foul.

Tommen slipped away at last after Pycelle finally accepted that he had failed and gave the boy milk of the poppy to ease his passing.

Silently, Robert watched them carry his son's body away to the Silent Sisters. He wanted to hurt, no, kill something. He wanted to twist Pycelle's head off that frail neck. He wanted to choke the life from Cersei. He would have to settle for Tywin Lannister though.

"Ser Arys."

The white knight stepped forward from his place against the wall. "Forgive me, Your Grace. We have failed-"

"Find Ned. I would speak with him if he is awake. I would know what is being done to defend the city."

"Your Grace, surely you could do with sleep and some time-"

"Find Ned and don't make me repeat the order again."

His old friend was still awake and meeting with Janos Slynt, Varys, and Barristan in the council chamber. With frozen eyes and icy courtesy, Ned gave a report of their progress. Ravens had been sent to holdfast throughout the Corwnlands, to Storm's End, to Dragonstone, and to Riverrun where a fresh army waited. Slynt, always preening and deferential, assured the king that the City Watch would hold King's Landing for as long as necessary. Lords, knights, squires, and retainers who remained at court after the Hand's Tourney were also alerted and at the ready.

"The city will hold," Eddard said.

"Good, good." Robert gave a tired sigh. "Leave us, the lot of you. I want to speak with Ned."

The others shuffled out with bows and vows of victory.

"Are you certain you should be away from your son's side?" Ned asked once they were alone.

"Tommen is dead."

Ned's impassive face melted. "The prince is dead? Robert- Gods be good. My condolences." He looked around unable to find something more to say. "Barristan and I will take the command and hold the city until our levies arrive. You are in no state to be in a war room."

"I have no fit place but a war room unless it's a battlefield." _Or a bed chamber._ But he stopped himself before adding that bit.

"Mightn't you wish to go to the royal sept and-"

"Pray?" Robert asked. "No. I want to be doing something, damn it all! I will not stand for any of this waiting and beseeching the gods."

"As of now, we can do no more than wait." Ned sighed. "The ravens are sent, the orders are given. Now we wait for Lannister to come."

* * *

Tywin Lannister no doubt thought to find King's Landing unaware and feebly defended. Instead, the capital was on high alert and far from defenseless.

When the scouts returned with news of the army's approach, there was a sense of high excitement. Robert hadn't had a good battle in nine years. But for all the cheers and blessings the king received from the smallfolk as he and the Kingsguard road through the streets toward the Lion Gate, they felt fairly undeserved. Holding a city wasn't near so invigorating as conquering one or facing an army in the field. Even after Twyin's army arrived nothing happened on their side but watching, receiving reports, and trying to send ravens that didn't end up with arrows shot through them.

To build siege weapons, Lannister's men were forced to make their way across the bridge of Blackwater to cut down trees in the Kingswood and return with them to actually build the damn things. The process was slow as it was, made even worse by all the arrows Robert's men feathered them with.

"Mightn't we offer to send some of our own carpenters to assist them?" Barristan suggested when Robert complained about how long they were taking.

The king laughed. "If I didn't know Tywin would send us back the messenger's head, I would."

Their forces weren't nearly so numerous as the Lannisters and there were more watchmen, showmen, and green boys than true soldiers. The surest way to unite their ragtag forces and make them fight more fiercely than even they knew they could was to befriend them. Make them ready to fight and die beside you. Make them love you.

To achieve that the king knew the men had to see him among them and know him. As Robert made his way along the walls, he repeated Barristan's joke with the men, chatting with groups of them in turn to make them laugh and raise their spirits. They joked that after crushing dragons and krakens, a mere pride of lions would be nothing. He even stopped to play a few rounds of dice with some of them.

Every so often one of the men would offer condolences for the king's loss which brought an end to any frivolity.

When he reached the place where some of the Stark household guards were stationed, Robert would have sworn he was returned to Winterfell and the frigid winds of the North. Each of the armored men were courteous in their greetings but politely unreceptive to further talk. Robert noticed one of the shorter men in shiny white armor didn't even bother removing his helm and kept his back to the king after a bow. Robert moved on from them quickly.

Morale aside, no true progress was made until the third day of the siege. Unfortunately for Robert, he had no true part in the victory.

The towers still weren't erected yet when the Lannister army was forced to face their foes. Troops bearing the crowned stag of Baratheon took Tywin in the rear having crossed the Blackwater further upstream.

"This could not be the work of the ravens we sent," Barristan said as the men cheered around them.

"Renly," the king said. His shiny, useless little brother who knew nothing of war was responsible for saving the city. "He sent ravens before he left for Highgarden. He told the storm lords to raise their banners and make haste to the capital. Gods be good! Now he'll act even more like a peacock when he returns."

The Westerlands forces were so unprepared, their pants might as well have been about their ankles. The Stormlands host crushed the lions against the city walls as though they were stuck between an anvil and a falling hammer.

By the time the men behind the city walls were marshaled and ready to join the fray, the work was all but done.

Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, and a pair of Kevan's sons perished in the battle. The surviving remnants of their forces bent the knee or fled. Those who escaped were halted in their retreat by Ser Edmure and his army some days away.

* * *

Robert had no need for a long trial and public execution for Cersei. That dwarf brother of hers did the work for him. This time he was relieved to have the task relinquished from him.

Instead of the black cells, Barristan had taken the queen to one of the more comfortable cells reserved for high ranking prisoners. The lower cells overflowed with the usual criminals and the Lannister household guards as well as the servants, and Westerlands nobles who assisted with concealing the kidnaping of the royal children. By the time Lady Catelyn arrived in King's Landing with Tyrion Lannister, there was no place to put the Imp but with his sister. The guards said the siblings argued near constantly, blaming each other for their current circumstances and sure doom. If Tyrion weren't so foul and deformed a little creature who could not defend himself, even against a woman, none of this would have happened. If Cersei hadn't murdered Jon Arryn and attempted to kill the Stark boy, their House would not be in ruins. And so they went round and round.

The guards were not concerned until the fighting ceased.

"After a time, I unlocked the cell just to have a look and found Her Grace sprawled out on the floor," the guard reported to Robert and the small council. "Then the Imp said, all casual-like, 'Not to state the obvious, but I have strangled my sister and I am afraid she did not survive the ordeal. Might I request the honor of joining the elite force of the Night's Watch? Oh, and I would like my super as well, if you please.'"

Robert granted Tyrion's request. He also allowed Lancel and the bulk of the men who would face trial for their parts in the kidnapping to take the black as well.

"I spoke with Arya," Eddard said a week and some days after Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen's funeral.

The bodies of the princess and the crown prince were retrieved from the Goldroad to lay in state beside Tommen in the Great Sept of Baelor before being placed in their tombs.

"And Cat. Arya wishes to wed you to strengthen our family. The prospect of getting vengeance on the Lannisters for crippling Bran played no small part in her initial decision. My wife tells me this is an honor we cannot let pass."

Then he said no more, allowing those words to settle between them.

Robert wasn't one who often expressed feelings well, especially not through words. So he did not know how to tell his old friend that after everything – the loss of his children, the near loss of his kingdom, the war that was only stopped by his brother's stubbornness – he needed to have Arya – his Lyanna returned to him. He needed at least that to go right.

"I will make Lady Arya happy," Robert said. "I swear it."

"You swear," Ned repeated coldly, not looking at him.

Like a punch in the throat, Robert recalled his friend's words the day he learned of his intentions to marry Arya. _The Others take your oaths and vows. I more than anyone know their worth._

"If I truly had any sense I would accept Mace Tyrell's offer and wed Arya to his son. If you had any sense, you would gladly wish for that, as well. But I have already told Cat I will agree to the match."

* * *

Half the realm descended upon King's Landing for the wedding.

Renly was quite wroth with Robert for choosing to wed Lady Arya instead of Margaery Tyrell. Apparently, he had gotten it into his head that the king wanted to set Cersei aside for the Rose of Highgarden not the She-Wolf of Winterfell. He was even fool enough to assure Lord Mace that this was the plan.

But Tyrell was pleased when Robert laughed with him about the confusion and offered Renly as a suitable replacement for the Lady Margaery's groom.

For the first time in Robert's entire reign, the Martell's appeared truly civil. Prince Doran could not attend, but Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne gave his excuses and his congratulations. In addition to attending a wedding, they had the pleasure of seeing Gregor Clegane's head mounted on a spike at last.

Even Stannis seemed pleased for once. In his eyes, justice had finally been served. He did not even more the children. When Stannis attempted to explain that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were not in fact Robert's children but the Kingslayer's, the king repaid him with a shattered nose.

During the ceremony, Robert tried not to think of Ned's grim face empty of mirth as he unfastened the clasp of Arya's grey and white maiden cloak. He refused to compare how flushed and pleased Cersei had looked on their own wedding day with the calm and steady look Arya gave him. Wrapping the cloth-of-gold cloak around her slender shoulders, the king only allowed himself to focus on the fact that she was his now. He had finally won his Lyanna.


End file.
